


The Princess and the Proletariat

by orphan_account



Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:08:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21783466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet--Or would it?Princess Weiss Schnee, heir to House Schnee and Royal Candidate for succession to the throne, is targeted by anarchist assassins bent on rescuing the Kingdom of Atlas from the corruption of capitalism by any means necessary.
Relationships: Ruby Rose/Weiss Schnee
Comments: 4
Kudos: 31





	1. Amour Propre

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Princess Schnee](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Princess+Schnee).



Shy clouds could be seen from the tops of tall, opal spines. Standing at the top of the highest one was Princess Weiss Schnee. "Princess" was a moniker she was quite familiar with, even if it made her uncomfortable to hear it. She was not a princess, not in any sense of the word. However, to some it seemed like a foregone conclusion. In just two weeks time, The Council of Atlas would be holding elections for its future. 

Weiss traced a finger along the porcelain curve of her doll-like cheek. Unscathed, it glossed like the mirror in the artificial light. A crystalline dress contorted her shape, blowing out her hips and shrinking her middle, pressurizing her bust into an explosive bubble, and collapsing around her throat. She cast her eyes away from her cringeworthy reflection.

A steady hand pressed into her lower back, pushing her posture upright, "Please hold still, Princess. I'm not done yet."

"Must I wear this catastrophe of an antiquated, insipid, and diminishing handkerchief of a dress? The people do not care how their future Queen dresses, only of the spawn she produces."

Weiss could enunciate. Her cadence was without peer for her age. She spoke with the clarity of fresh snow, the presence of pounding hail, and the slippery subtlety of black ice. She gave pause even to a grizzled handmaiden in her twilight years. 

The woman drew an unsettled breath, "You could convince someone that wet is dry, Princess. That dress is nothing but beautiful on you. And if you think nobody will be paying attention to you during festivities, then you are going to be mightily disappointed."

Weiss shook her head and wrenched her eyes shut. But she remained still for the woman to continue dragging tape measures across her husk. In the mirror, the outside country was grey and brown and white, with snows and skies vacant of laughter, always fading, not just darker, not just grey, but always coagulating into a frozen muck. When the nameless, faceless spectre was done and gone, Weiss looked over her shoulder and out of the window. The light of morning had passed into a warm evening. 

"Spring is the cruellest season," Weiss mumbled, tracing her eyes over the forgetful blankets of white just beyond the castle walls far below.

She couldn't remember when lilacs mixed with the spring breeze, rivulets of fresh rain draining down the hills; mixing and stirring with dull roots. But she had many dreams of a True Spring. Some continued to believe this unending winter would cease, but with each passing year, it seemed more and more unlikely. Winter was here to stay, for better or for worse; for the people of Atlas it was mostly for the worse. Sunlight was brief, making even greenhouses unprofitable. Were it not for Atlas's technological might, the kingdom would have surely collapsed long ago.

Weiss froze. Something, someone was there with her--

Oh.

"Sister?"

Winter Schnee was in the corner of the room, her breeches planted on the edge of Weiss's curtained bed. She was armed with a sword and rapier, shining silver buckled over her breast and heart. Cold black leather bit into her muscles and flanks, betraying the older Schnee's commitment to being a man-at-arms.

"You're expected for lunch."

"I will be eating in peace up here, if you don't mind."

"I don't. But Father does."

Weiss's stomach was like a swollen sea. Her arms entwined around herself, "I don't want to speak to him."

"Then say nothing to him, just eat," Winter sighed, "He's not going to drop this. He'll insist. You can't fight unnecessary battles like this Weiss, you won't make it."

"Egads, I didn't know you cared."

Winter didn't flinch at the dryness in her sister's tone. She was always like this.

"You look the part. Now just act it. You're almost done. You've almost given him what he wants. And when he has it--"

"He'll just want more. It doesn't end when I'm crowned Queen Apparent. It's just the beginning."

"But as our future Queen, you'll have a little more say in all this Weiss. Far more than you do right now."

"You turned this down."

"So I did."

"So Whitley can be Queen."

Winter very nearly arched a lone brow, which was about as close to a laugh for her. Weiss smiled with triumph.

"Whitley couldn't be King, a Queen, or even a Jester."

"Hey, temperament isn't everything. Just look at where it got Father."

Jacques Schnee wasn't the head of the Schnee family for nothing. He had climbed from soldier, to courtier, to suitor, to the most powerful man in all of Atlas. He had enough wealth to field a private army to rival the Atlas military.

Winter just flicked her eyes away, looking annoyed. Weiss didn't seem bothered by it.

She twisted toward her older sister, "Did you have to come armed? Do you actually expect me to fight you?"

"No. But if you did choose to, I would fight you. I'd rather be the one to take you down to see Father than...one of the mercenaries."

Mercenary was too kind of a word. Jacques was rich, but that didn't mean he paid well. He was a cutthroat who paid only just enough to insure loyalty. He otherwise didn't care how his private guard worked or acted, so long as it didn't bring him any personal shame or indignity. It was just one of many reasons why Weiss had become a recluse. She could not stomach wandering the halls of the castle proper.

"I feel more and more like a slave than a princess every day."

Winter grimaced at her sister's choice of words, "Don't say that sort of thing. As much as you might not like it here, you have it much better than a slave."

Weiss failed to see how that mattered. She just backed away from the window -- it wasn't like she was planning to jump. And she turned toward Winter, offering an arm, "Very well then, lead on. I am tired and forgetful. Please show Princess Schnee the way to her father's luncheon. I'm sure it's to be a grand ol' feast." Winter obliged, but did roll her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm writing this off the cuff. First draft. No re-reading or editing or proofing or even spellchecking. I'm lazy like that. At some point I'll pour over this and make corrections. Just sayin'.


	2. Repast

The glass stems of Weiss's heels click-clacked as she waded into the onyx and marble hall. She made a point to swing her hips, to swivel her thighs. To mark the runway to her seat with a beautifying smile. Her white hair streamed behind her like a glorious banner. She feigned a delighted pout as she felt eyes singe her, painting her with looks of envy and desire. Swish-swish, her powdery dress swayed across her ankles, twinkling like a winter galaxy. 

Someone had heralded her entrance into the room, but it wasn't necessary. She was the beloved princess, everyone knew who she was; her infrequent presence only made the audience's fondness and attention all the more hysterical. 

Weiss had her seat drawn out for her. She gracefully cradled herself down into it, pulling the dress underneath her as she was tucked under the table. She was ninety degrees orthogonal to her father, with whom she should have shared an icy glance with. However, she promptly ignored him, eagerly taking the opportunity to twist to her left and engage with Coco Adel, a beautiful noble and renowned fashionista. 

The dark-haired wonder canted her eyes in a small smile, "Greetings, Princess. Pleased to have you present."

"Coco." Weiss nodded, her eyes briefly scanning south of Coco; she wasn't startled by the number of stares she was still receiving. She could keenly feel the attention lingering from the other nobles just standing, loitering around; or the heavily armored guards posted at the four stakes of the room. She counted a bardiche, a halberd, two cutlass, and a repeating crossbow. It seemed a bit excessive for a simple lunch, even with a crowd of this size. Just what was the deal?

"You seem well. I'm surprised."

"What. Did you think I was dead?"

"Actually..." an uncomfortable laugh, "Of course not. But anyway, I apologize for the haste, but I simply must ask while I have your ear even for a second-- I would like to extend an invitation to visit my family at Hotel Ritz, I would like to talk to you in private before the vote. Do you think that's possible?"

"I...I don't know," Weiss cradled her tongue in one side of her mouth, her brows knitting, "I suppose I would need to ask Father and arrange transport."

"Please consider it," she pleaded quietly.

Weiss really did not want to ask her father for anything, though getting out of the castle even for a day was usually worth the reward. Weiss's breasts snapped up and down with a disgusting swallow of something ichorous in her throat, "Perhaps...?"

Coco leaned in, smiling supportively - or so she might have imagined. "Thank you."

Weiss banished the weakness in her visage with a well-practiced smile, nodding, "Of course. How are you fairing?"

Weiss got a few more words out of the well-dressed noblegirl, before she was interrupted by a clattering of utensils and the stumbling cough of Jacques Schnee.

"Well, now that the Princess has finally shared with us the grace of her presence, we might finally begin to eat." He ran a slender finger along one handlebar of his mustache, "Please indulge yourselves in the name of House Schnee."

Weiss very nearly rolled her eyes as numerous minor nobles and aspiring courtiers dressed in tuxes and little black dresses without delay began to engorge themselves on wine and meat. Weiss herself just took a single glance at her food, pretending to take a sip from her blood-red glass.

She was seated far enough away from her father that they merely, finally, glanced at one another; acknowledging each other's existence, the noise of the celebratory meal carried over what could have possibly been an uncomfortable conversation. Weiss was relieved by the silence. She decided to indulge her father by continuing to pretend she was in a fairy tale. She smiled. She giggled. She traded little jokes with the noblegirls that took turns creeping up to her small, coveted seat. This routine was familiar, so she found herself justifying in slipping into it once more. Even if it had been the source of frustration that had pushed her up into the tower many weeks ago.

The little lunch carried on until Coco excused herself. An opportunistic blonde took her place. She knew him well.

"Jaune."

"Hello my dear," Jaune had a likably sincere and naive smile, like the reeds of his lips just couldn't help themselves. 

That didn't abate the toxic weight in her stomach or mollify the baneful taste in her mouth. She finally took a swig of sweet wine to wash it down. She blanched when its aftertaste just made her mouth feel slimy and thick. Jaune's closeness was not much of a chaser. He smelled sweeter than the wine, his cheeks glowing like a hearth.

"It's been so long."

"Yes, it has."

"What happened to you?"

"I hibernated for the winter?"

He didn't laugh, "Weiss...you're the princess. You can't worry people like that."

"I can worry whom I chose, precisely because I am." She shrugged, "Or--" suddenly, she realized where she was, the act she was trying to play, and dropped her words, "Or, I suppose," she trailed off, wondering how Jaune could have evoked this reaction from her, "What's done is done. I'm here, now. Aren't you happy?"

"Of course I am, sweetheart," Jaune leaned in further, their knees touching.

Weiss scooted just slightly back, "Uh, sweetheart?"

"Yes." Jaune looked uncomfortable, even with himself, "You don't like it?"

"Not particularly."

Jaune wasn't a noble. He was a foreigner from a large family. He had distinguished himself by serving in the Atlas military, graduating from the academy at the top of his class. Of course her father would appoint such a person to be her betrothed. Some had thought it curious, given his lack of standing, but she knew better than to doubt her father's ability to scheme. Jaune was someone she could not truly hate or blame, who had no real power of his own to challenge a Schnee's authority. Although he certainly could have said no to her father, both herself and her father knew Jaune was attracted to her. That much was apparent. She was not only his chance to wealth and success, but she could tell he was easily enchanted by her smiles.

Were she just a little more selfish, she might have cried. But instead she comforted him by touching his knee with the inside of her palm, peering into his pretty blue eyes, "Keep trying." 

Why string him along? What exactly was she hoping would happen? He'd become detestable like her father? Or perhaps, he'd grow interested in another and pass her by? It wasn't like Jaune particularly wanted to become King...which made his appointment by her father all the more curious, though she'd some ideas about it.

Jaune finally remembered to keep up decorum around the others, "Can I speak with you later, this evening, Princess? Like, how about-- at seven? It's important."

She swallowed dread, "Yes, you may." 

Mollified, Jaune allowed other nobles to finally swarm her. Many had wished for details concerning the upcoming elections and how she would prepare for them. Others were seeking favors or trying to pay their debts in anticipation of her becoming appointed. Although she did secretly delight in holding so much sway, just by simply breathing, Weiss could not keep the disdain entirely from her voice. She was dismissive, some would say; others perhaps 'cruel'. Her cold refusal to entertain apologies and gifts chilled the otherwise giddy atmosphere of the luncheon.

Gradually, nobles began to depart. Weiss would have loved to follow after one of them, but in such an eyecatching and awkward dress, she was not equipped for stealth. She quietly awaited her demise in her seat. She counted the beats of her heart as one by one, the room depleted. Eventually, it was just herself, her father, and the guards. The room had become deathly still, almost tranquil. For all the stillness, Weiss could feel her heart trample all over her own stillness.

She did not look at him, as he finally spoke, "Weiss," his chair scooted and he walked around her, "We need to talk about the elections."

A hand scraped across her throat, finger and thumb plucking on her jaw, tilting her eyes toward his own, "You did well, just now."

His praise was faint and did nothing to relieve her. Weiss just leveled a deadpan, glazed-over look at him.

"Thank you, Father."

"Your destiny is long approaching. You will make House Schnee richer and more powerful. But more importantly, you will usher in a new era for humanity."

"I will?"

He nodded, "More on that later. I'm more concerned about the other candidates. Are you prepared?"

"I've only been learning to come out on top since I was born."

"Yes, you are...the very best." Jacques trailed off, sipping wine from a glass still in his hand. He set it down--

THWAK!

Weiss didn't flinch. It hardly stung. She didn't even blink.

"Just stay out of your room. I have no more patience for your 'performances'. You can protest all you want when you are elected by the council and ratified as our nation's future Queen. Is that understood?"

"I..." she didn't hold back a barb, so much as she couldn't even come up with one; her wit dulled by a crackling sensation, she tittered, "Yes Father."

"Very good. Now, will you tell me how you are prepared to succeed in the elections? Surely you can spare a few words on the most important thing you will ever do in your entire life."

Weiss squeezed herself, but she found it easy to speak; she had rehearsed this. 

"As you know, there are six candidates this time, an unusually high number, but it represents the degree of turmoil in Atlas right now. House Soleil's candidate is Ciel Soleil. She is unremarkable, but possesses two notable talents: She is disciplined and perceptive. In the contest of wisdom, she will not need any tricks to prove her intellectual ability, I've seen first hand how quick she is with her facts. But she's also overly reliant on facts and figures, it won't be enough to persuade the judges she possesses any actual wisdom. And, in the contest of strength, while she will be a dangerous adversary, I think I can defeat her. I believe she will try to ambush the other candidates, instead of relying on brute strength or skill. If she prepares adequately, she can probably defeat any of the other candidates, including myself, which is why I will be especially careful confronting the others until I can route her plans."

Jacques interrupted, "You give the other candidates far too much credit. They are not Schnee. I don't want to hear you talk like this during the event. As the future Queen of Atlas, you must show your superiority; do not give your adversaries anything."

"Yes, Father."

"I'm not worried about the Soleil girl. Skip the preamble; I want to know how you plan to handle Cinderella."

Cinderella and Weiss had never gotten along. To call her a rival was certainly wrong; Weiss could count on one hand the number of times she had ever actually engaged with her in conversation. But Weiss considered her -- just awful. Cinderella was ALMOST the most selfish, callous, and pompous individual she had ever met...just shy of her father, really. When she'd been a girl, she had been convinced Cinderella was actually Jacque's child and she was somebody else's.

But while Weiss's hair was as fair and as white as snow, Cinderella's was as black as death. There were rumors she tortured suitors who disappointed her, that she sick pleasure in hurting others; none who served her Nameless House would dare speak ill of her in public, but her deeds were rumored as well as one knew fairy tales.

Weiss flicked her eyes toward her feet, "Well. We still don't know much about her, do we?"

"Nothing for absolute certain, Cinderella and The Nameless House have enigmatic and deeply-entrenched backers."

If Cinderella wasn't such a rotten bitch, Weiss was sure she would have just let someone like her win the election. But she just couldn't let that happen. Cinderella would destroy everything. Even if she herself didn't care for the world as it was, she certainly didn't want it destroyed, either.

"My plan is very simple. I...plan to kill her during the contest of strength."

Jacques seemed surprised by her admission, but Weiss could tell it was just an act, "And what if you fail?"

"I thought you were saying that a Schnee shouldn't consider a possibility like that."

"Don't put words in my mouth. It's different with Cinderella, Weiss. This isn't a joking matter. I'm expecting you to win. I'm expecting you to fulfill your destiny. I'm expecting House Schnee to finally become the rulers of Atlas."

Weiss thought her father's denouncement was rather tired. But she had to admit she was so sick of this contest controlling her life, she just wanted it over and done with; she just wanted it to finally end.

"Well, like I said. I'll kill her and make it look like an accident. I'm fairly certain that's my best chance."

"A rather coldblooded thing of you to say."

"If I don't kill her, she's going to probably kill all of us at some point. I don't really see any other option. I don't exactly want to do any of this, as you well know."

"I do. But at least, unlike your sister, you are going to do it."

Weiss looked down at her gloved hands, "The contest of strength is considered by historians to be the hardest. But I think it's the only contest where our abilities are matched."

Jacques was silent.

"Are we done?"

"Yes, you are excused...for now."


End file.
